


Habitation

by Raven_Kween



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Widojest Week, i haven't written fanfic in 10 years, no beta we die like men, this is all Liam O'Brien and Laura Bailey's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25188997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Kween/pseuds/Raven_Kween
Summary: Jester wakes up from a nightmare.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 9
Kudos: 100
Collections: Widojest Week 2020





	Habitation

**Author's Note:**

> Widojest Week 2020: Paint/Soot-Covered Fingers

Jester was falling. Plummeting from the sky, from the tree, branches snapping beneath her, everything dropping away, until she hit the ground, hard, but it wasn’t ground, it was the bottom of a cage, bars around and above her, and an ugly laugh in the dark...

Jester’s eyes snapped open, her muscles seizing as she jolted awake. She froze, making herself very still, as she tried to remember where she was, when she was. Stars above her, rippling like the surface of a bubble. This was Caleb’s tiny hut, they were in the Hut and everything was okay, it was okay because the Nein were here and they were on an adventure and she was safe. It’s okay, you’re okay. Okay? 

They were so cramped in the Hut, she shouldn’t have felt alone. But she did. Still half-asleep, Jester reached out across the cold forest floor, grasping for something, someone in the dark, and found warmth, and instinctively curled around it. This wasn’t the first time she’d cuddled up next to one of the Nein in the night. Yasha’s looming, solid presence was an excellent deterrent against night terrors, even if her size made it hard to throw an arm over her. Beau was usually good to snuggle for like, five minutes, and then would thrash around in her sleep, but Beau had been acting so weird these last few weeks, like Jester was cursed, or diseased, or had let out a really smelly fart. So it wasn’t Beau. Hmm. Jester could have opened her eyes, of course, but this was a fun game, to guess based on something other than sight. And she really didn’t want to go back to sleep, where the nightmare might be crouching, waiting….

Okay okay okay. So. The Someone she was curled around was too small to be Caduceus, too big to be Nott, too wiry to be Beau, too warm to be Fjord. Jester would have clapped excitedly, if one hand wasn’t tucked under her body and the other wrapped around the Mystery Person’s waist. She tucked her nose close to the Mystery Shoulder, and inhaled. Leather, the faint greasy tang of wool, and woodsmoke. Hmmm… that could be any of the Nein, really, when you got down to it, even her. This game was trickier than she thought. Jester cracked an eye open, then shut it fast. No, no cheating. 

She took another deep breath, her brow furrowing. Parchment, ink, and, and…she knew this, she had it, excitement curled in her belly. She took another sniff. Amber musk, like the Chateau's perfumes, and balsam, and cedarwood with a touch of clove and, and, and… cinnamon! Jester nearly squealed with delight as she recognized the smell of incense. Caleb’s incense, for summoning Frumpkin. Once she had sprinkled it on her morning bread because it smelled so good, even though Caleb had said it wouldn’t taste as good as it smelled. He was right. Caleb, their stinky wizard, but he was not stinky at all, not anymore. Caleb smelled good. Jester burrowed her nose into the back of the shoulder, a few strands of his hair tickling her nose. And Caleb- froze. Every muscle in his body tensed, she could feel it through layers of wool and cloth. 

Jester froze. She’d never snuggled Caleb before, he usually slept with one side against the wall of the hut, away from everyone, watching and alert. He kept his pack in front of him like a wall, and oh no, Jester thought, maybe Caleb hates to be snuggled, to be touched when he isn’t aware, and she was going to pull back, she really was, but he felt warm and solid, even if he was skinny, and her breath had evened out to match his. 

Jester was not a selfish person, really not, (even if she did sometimes take the last pastry at breakfast, she always asked if anyone wanted it first), but the thought of trying to sleep on her own, of rolling onto her back into the cold and staring up at the stars through the roof of the hut, so distant and far and alone, made tears prick at the back of her eyes.  
So Jester froze too, selfishness and loneliness warring inside her. If Caleb pushed her away, she would let him. She would respect his space. Maybe she could pretend she was sleeping the whole time, just rolling around like a bug in her blanket, that it was an accident. 

Maybe she should just ask him. 

“Caleb?” she whispered softly, barely giving the words breath. She felt his muscles twitch. “Are you asleep?” 

He didn’t answer, his breaths shallow, tension humming through his body like a string on Yasha’s harp. Jester didn’t know what to do. She flexed the muscle of her arm, ready to pull it away slowly, just in case he really was asleep, she didn’t want to wake him, so she moved carefully, deliberately, almost there - and a hand reached out, rough-callused fingers catching her own. She held her breath, and realized Caleb was holding his too. 

He didn’t say anything, so neither did Jester. But he tucked her arm around him, and she slowly relaxed into the curve of his back, her legs resting alongside his. She looked down, at his fingers curled between hers. The half-moons of his fingernails were dark. Dirt? Jester wondered, and brought his hand to her nose. He smelled like a campfire. Not dirt. Soot. 

Pressed against Caleb’s warmth, her breathing gradually evened out, and a deep sleep claimed her, blissfully free of dreams. 

Caleb lay awake the rest of the night, eyes wide in the darkness of the hut. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  


Caleb Widogast was an intelligent man, and therefore knew he was going to Hell. For a great many things, of course, the list bordered on endless, but on this particular night, in this particular hut (that would burst like a bubble if he left it), Caleb had earned a place in Hell because of where he deliberately placed his bedroll. 

Caleb was very good at lying to other people, but not so good at lying to himself, more’s the pity. So he knew, in the back of his mind, exactly what he was doing as he placed his bedroll with its head at one concave wall of the hut, instead of his back, leaving room on either side. He told Nott it was because of a lump in the ground. “Perhaps a tree root,” he muttered. “It was digging into my back.”

“Caduceus!” Nott yelled across the (small, very small) space. “Can you fix this tree root? It’s bothering Caleb! Talk to it or something!”

She turned back to Caleb, fanged teeth gleaming. “All better.” 

“Let’s have a look at this,” Caduceus rumbled, striding towards Caleb’s bedroll. 

“It is really not a problem,” Caleb mutters through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to trouble you. Or anyone. I will just move. Problem solved.”

Of course it was not because of a tree root. It was in case a little blue tiefling decided to curl up next to him in her sleep again. 

Caleb looked down at his bedroll with regret, then blinked. The rough grey wool was covered with fingerprints in bright colors. Glancing around the clearing, Caleb quickly brought the cloth to his nose, and breathed deeply. Turpentine, sugar, and rosewood. 

“Caaaaaaayleb,” he heard his name sing-songed, and looked up, nose buried in his blanket, to meet Jester’s twinkling eyes. Oh, Scheisse. 

But instead of scolding him for being a pervy blanket-sniffer, the tiefling smiled.  
“You can sleep by me tonight, since that tree root is bothering you.”

Jester grabbed Caleb’s hand, her fingers sticky with paint, and pulled him towards her bedroll.


End file.
